Look Down
by revynclaw
Summary: These are dark times. The war is over. Voldemort has won. Harry and Ron are dead. Death Eaters have taken over Hogwarts. But a certain group of sixth year boys are about to change that. Les Mis/Harry Potter crossover fic. AU.
1. don't look 'em in the eye

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Victor Hugo owns Les Miserables. I am not JK Rowling, nor am I Victor Hugo.**

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**Chapter 1: Don't look 'em in the eye**

These are dark times, there is no denying it.

2013. The war has ended. While to some, to say that war is over is a joyful thing, that it is something to be celebrated. To say 'war is over' is to be greeted with loud yells and cheers of joy, gleeful faces, both happy and relieved. To say 'war is over' is to see those young, fresh faces lined with age smile again. These smiles may be seen side by side with tears, but these are happy tears; tears of joy.

"War is over. "

But there were no celebrations.

There were no yells and cheers.

No one was smiling.

No one was crying happy tears.

War was over, and Voldemort has won. Harry and Ron were dead; Ron was blown to pieces by an unknown Death Eater. Voldemort got to kill Harry, finally getting what he had always wanted. Hermione has somehow survived—although barely—she was still broken; one can see in the lines on her face and draw the conclusion that she has been through so much.

In the final Battle at Hogwarts, a total of three hundred and ninety-five people have died. Three hundred and ninety-five lives were lost that night. Two hundred and fifty-six were Hogwarts students and members of the staff (house elves included); Eighty seven of the total death toll were Death Eaters, and fifty-two were members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Of the teachers who fought that night, only McGonagall, Slughorn, and Flitwick have remained at Hogwarts. Others, like Professor Sprout have gotten themselves killed, which scared the others into quitting their teaching jobs, preferring to stay safe in their homes and live a little longer. Not long after the Battle, the Dark Mark was found outside Madam Pomfrey's modest cottage in Leadworth, and inside was the pale, mangled body of the mediwitch, presumed to have been strangled to death by a large snake.

As expected, the school is now run by Death Eaters, with Thomas Mulciber as the Headmaster and siblings Amycus and Alecto Carrow as Deputy Headmaster and Headmistress. Defense Against the Dark Arts was replaced by Dark Arts, taught by the Carrows themselves. McGonagall tried to teach as normally as possible, determined to take the students' minds away from their school's sinister atmosphere, but every lesson was carefully monitored to ensure that the Professors were teaching "properly", and not planting _ideas _into their minds. McGonagall, Slughorn and Flitwick were often seen with gashes on their cheeks and bruises on their arms and necks.

A few, maybe four or five years before, Hagrid had staged a student riot and rallied the students to leave their classrooms and gather in one huge crowd at the courtyard to protest. As expected, the current school administration was not pleased. A few spells were cast, enough to dissipate the crowd of protesting students, and a few more spells later, Hagrid lay dead on the courtyard. No student protests were held ever since.

Nobody felt safe anymore. Once, Hogwarts was warm and welcoming. Its stone walls were once a home to hopes and dreams; simple joys and celebrations; but now it carried nothing but an air of despair. It was rare to see anyone smile these days. Quidditch was banned. The school stopped assigning prefects. However, the students were still allowed to visit Hogsmeade, the only thing left to look forward to, except the end of the term.

The Muggle-born population at Hogwarts has dwindled to a mere ninety-eight. So did the number of half-bloods, although not as much. Muggle-borns and anyone who was brave (or stupid) enough to speak out were severely beaten and punished.

Their only refuge was Miss Granger, the school's resident mediwitch, since Madam Pomfrey's _incident._ Hermione knew that even with Ron's and Harry's deaths, her mission was not over. Despite being constantly bullied by her Death Eater coworkers (and even some inconsiderate students), she put on a brave face and carried on. She provided aid to the sick and tortured, and basically became every student's best friend, especially a special group of sixth year boys, who were constantly getting themselves into trouble.

They reminded her of her younger self sometimes.

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**Author's Note: Soooo. Here's my first Les Miserables/crossover fic! I've never written one of these before, so it's definitely an interesting experience for me. English isn't my first language, so if you notice any errors I might have committed, please do tell me. And reviews! Reviews are very much appreciated! **

**xx Raii**


	2. saturday mornings

**chapter two: saturday mornings (now i remember)**

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Sometimes revolutions don't work out for the best.

Sometimes they move smoothly just long enough for you to grasp the idea that there may be hope; that achieving victory is not as hard as it seems. Sometimes fate just fucks with you and makes you feel like you've got a chance when in reality, you're just the underdog. No chance at all.

No matter how hard you try, if fate wants you to fail, you will.

No one can beat fate.

No one can cheat death.

But you can try.

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A soft groan escaped from Enjolras's mouth as he slowly opened his eyes before squinting at the bright sunlight. The familiar, crisp bedding and the smell of healing potions told him that he was in the Hospital Wing. He immediately raised his arm to block the blinding rays and turned his head to look at the bed to his left. There he saw Grantaire, whose snores were still reverberating through the room. To his right was Bahorel, also sleeping soundly. He sat up and saw Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Feuilly on the other side of the room, also fast asleep. Joly, Bossuet and Jehan walked into the room, accompanying Miss Granger who was pushing a cart of breakfast which was obviously for them; they were the only occupants of the wing as of the moment.

"Rise and shine, my dears!" Miss Granger greeted them cheerfully, smiling brightly as always. Grantaire's snores ceased, and so did Bahorel's. _Thank Merlin. _Sounds of rustling fabric and sleepy groans filled the room as slowly, everyone woke up. "Time for breakfast. Your friends here were just helping me with your food."

With a flick of her wand, the bowls of porridge and glassed of milk started levitating toward their bedside tables, landing with a soft clunk. As Enjolras started spooning small amounts of porridge to his mouth, he assessed his friends' injuries. He didn't see any bandages on Combeferre; he was really quite good at avoiding major injuries…_unless…_Courfeyrac, however, had his forehead wrapped with thick bandages. Feuilly, Bahorel, and Grantaire were sporting slings on their arms. Bahorel also had a purple bruise on the corner of his mouth which made him flinch every time he opened his mouth.

Enjolras had a bandage on the side of his head, and a wound on the back of his hand, whose dressing was starting to redden with blood.

"Grantaire, put that bottle _down_!" Miss Hermione said, seeing Grantaire take out a flask of firewhiskey from his pocket. "You're injured, and it's barely eight in the morning." She gave him a scowl and held out her open hand. Grantaire begrudgingly gave the mediwitch his alcohol, which earned a snigger from most of them. Joly, Bossuet and Jehan each took a seat on the empty beds near them.

"Now, would you kids tell me what happened yesterday?" Miss Granger asked, collecting their empty bowls and glasses and putting them in the sink. She flicked her wand and they started washing themselves.

"Oh, the usual," Courfeyrac said, shrugging. "Nothing that hasn't happened to us before."

Just then, the Hospital doors swung open and in came a breathless Marius Pontmercy.

"O-Oh, er—erm, s-so sorry, I—uh—I just heard," he said, resting his palms on his kneed and breathing heavily. "Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine, just dandy," Grantaire replied.

"Where were you, anyway?" Feuilly inquired. "Jehan, Joly and Bossuet were here presumably before sunrise, considering our dear Prouvaire's love for watching the sunrise and frolicking with the birds in the meadows."

Marius chuckled, and Jehan shook his head in amusement.

"I think that is partly my fault. Dear mister Pontmercy here was still sleeping when we decided to visit, so we decided to leave him behind," Joly offered.

"So, what happened?" Marius asked, sitting down on one of the beds beside Jehan.

"We had double Dark Arts classes with the Ravenclaws yesterday, and…well, er…" Courfeyrac began. His face was dark and hesitant. "The Carrows were talking about the Cruciatus curse—"

"—and tested it on Thènardier. Èponine Thènardier. She's a Muggle-born in our year. Gryffindor," Enjolras said grimly. The fury etched in his features was obvious. Miss Granger's eyes widened in shock.

"Did they really?—"

"And then we hexed the slimy bastards," Bahorel said. "They weren't happy, of course. Well, we did save that Thènardier bird, but we also got our arses landed in detention."

"And we all know what happens in detention," Combeferre added.

"What you did was very noble," Miss Granger said, feeling a surge of fondness for these boys. "And is Miss Thènardier alright? You could have brought her to me. We could never be too sure with the effects of the Cruciatus."

"No, she wasn't cursed," Enjolras said.

"Yeah, because those bastards were on our throats the moment we said 'stop'", Grantaire said.

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Èponine wrapped herself up in her tattered black coat and put on a gray cap as she ventured out of the Gryffindor common room. It was already seven-thirty in the morning, and she was supposed to meet Professor McGonagall at seven. It was a good thing it was a Saturday, there were no other students to mock her about being a 'Mudblood'. When she first entered the school, she had no idea what the term even meant, but with time, she eventually understood, and with even more time, the girl had gotten used to it.

A trip down a flight of stairs led her to the Entrance Hall, where the elderly witch was already waiting. She bowed her head to apologize, but the woman waved it away and insisted that they should get going. They took a walk down a footpath to Hogsmeade, McGonagall briskly leading the way with Èponine not wasting any time and walking to match the professor's pace, which was remarkably fast for an old woman.

Why was Èponine going to Hogsmeade, you ask? As you may or may not know, Èponine came from a poor Muggle family. Her parents were unemployed and often resorted to petty theft and credit card scams to support themselves. She had a younger sister, Azelma, and three younger brothers, two of which were put up for adoption and one, Gavroche, had stayed with them. Sometimes.

Èponine knew how to fend for herself at a young age. When she was younger, she was shamefully a part of their twisted schemes to earn money. At school, she and her siblings were bullied and teased for their haggard appearance. She knew that no one else was going to save her but herself.

Her letter to Hogwarts had been a blessing sent from heaven. She finally had a chance to get away from her abusive and unhealthy family. She jumped on the opportunity right away, much to the distaste of her parents. The first few months were bliss (except for the constant bullying), but she soon received letters from her parents asking for money. She ignored them at first, but they got more insistent, until she gave in and got herself landed in a couple of jobs to support her kin, mostly with Professor McGonagall's help. She couldn't let her family starve.

A few minutes later, they reached the village of Hogsmeade, which was eerily quiet at this time of the day. They ignored all the major shops, and McGonagall took a turn at a dirt footpath behind The Three Broomsticks and stopped at a flower shop bearing the name _Fauchelevent's Flowers. _She rapped on the wooden door; the windows were still boarded up, but the door creaked open to reveal a charming young girl, around Èponine's age.

"Oh, you must be Professor McGonagall and—"

"Miss Thènardier," McGonagall replied.

"Right," she said, smiling. "Please do make yourselves comfortable, I'll go fetch my father."

McGonagall nodded and settled herself on a couch by the fire. Èponine followed suit. A few minutes of silence followed before the girl entered the room once more, accompanied by an old man with a kind face, who she assumed to be the girl's father. There was something familiar about the two of them, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Professor McGonagall," the man greeted her Professor. "A pleasure to see you. And this must be—"

"Thènardier. Èponine Thènardier," Èponine said, shaking the man's hand, who smiled at her. "Lovely to meet you, sir."

"So, you want a job, eh?" he said, settling himself on a chair in front of them. The girl who greeted them earlier sat beside him.

"Er, I was hoping you could give me that, sir," Èponine said timidly. "I am very much in need of some extra cash."

"Miss Thènardier could offer to work during weekends, as she is still a student. I can assure you, Mr. Fauchelevent, that she is a hardworking, obedient girl," McGonagall said.

"Very well, then," Mr. Fauchelevent said, "I could always use an extra hand around here, and my daughter Cosette could use the company."

"Th-Thank you, sir," Èponine said, looking at the girl who was smiling at her.

"You may start next week, Èponine," Mr. Fauchelevent said.

"Thank you, sir," McGonagall told him. "I guess we should get going."

They walked out of the shop and back to the footpath to Hogwarts, and even though Professor McGonagall kept talking about Èponine's new job, the girl could not think of anything else.

_Cosette, now I remember._

_._

_._

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**Author's Note: Well, here's the second chapter! I know this story's not that popular, but I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you guys enjoy reading it too. **

**Reviews are awesome. **

**Reviews are better than Aaron Tveit, well not really, but I'd love them!**

**x Revy**


	3. when's this gonna end

**chapter three: when's this gonna end?**

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It was a bright and cheery Saturday, and even the school's accumulated dreariness was not enough to mask the radiant sunlight inching its way through the cracks and openings in the windows and walls. Saturdays in general, whether cheery or not, meant do-whatever-you-want-because-it's-the-weekend day to Gavroche, Éponine's first year brother.

Despite being new and merely eleven years old, Gavroche already knows a lot about the school. He usually spends his spare time lurking around the castle and finding secret passages that lead to who-knows-where. This 'talent' of his has made him quite the little troublemaker and he has become rather popular with the older students.

That particular Saturday was one he chose to spend exploring the dungeons far underneath the castle. The further he went down, the colder and damper it went. But he was Gavroche; he was not afraid of anything. And so on he went; a child with nothing more than a torch, a sense of curiosity and a craving for adventure.

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_Dear Marius,_

_How are things? I hope school has been okay. It's been so long since I last saw you. I really miss you, Marius. Couldn't you maybe pop in for a visit every once in a while? Or maybe we could arrange somewhere where we could meet? I'd love to talk to you again._

_Marius, I think you should know that grandpa died last week. He had a heart attack while he was sitting home alone while mum was grocery shopping. I know you and him aren't on good terms, but he's still family, and it would really mean a lot if you could come to the funeral this Wednesday. Mum has been trying to send you letters every day since grandpa died, but you weren't responding to any of them. Did you receive them? I hope you get this one, though. I'm looking forward to seeing you this Wednesday. At least do one last thing for the old man._

_ Missing you,_

_ Maria_

Marius had been folding and unfolding Maria's letter since breakfast. She was his cousin; the daughter of his mother's sister Mrs. Hudson, formerly Miss Belinda Gillenormand. His grandfather was dead, and he was not sure how to feel about it.

"_A wizard! An actual wizard?! Have you any idea of the shame you bring on our family, boy?" Mr. Gillenormand was livid; Marius had never seen him so angry before._

"_B-But grandpa," the eleven-year-old Marius said. "I got accepted to a special school!"_

"_Special?" the old man scoffed. "I am absolutely not paying for this satanic nonsense!" He then proceeded to grab the boy by the collar, his face leaning in menacingly to Marius's face, which was now wet with tears. "Now, listen to me, and listen well. You will _not _got to that freakish, evil school or you had better find somewhere else to sleep in for the rest of your life!"_

_The man let the boy go and walked away, leaving poor little Marius crying by the fireplace. _

_He packed his bags and left for his aunt Belinda's. He never saw his grandfather since._

Ever since that night, he has felt nothing but hate for the old man, which slowly faded to indifference. He was orphaned as a young boy, and his grandfather took him in. From a young age, he was taught that witchcraft and sorcery were wrong, that such acts would lead him to hell. But then he realized he could do magic…He was different, he was special. And his grandfather wasn't happy.

Maria, his cousin, and his aunt Belinda had been his family since he ran away, but as his grandfather's health deteriorated, Maria and his aunt Belinda have been taking care of the old man. He couldn't bear to face him, so he ran and stayed with his friend Courfeyrac, whose parents he paid a modest sum for board and lodging.

His grandfather was dead.

No, Marius was not happy.

He wasn't sad, either.

And he didn't know if he was coming to the funeral. There were too many bad memories; so many things he would rather forget; and seeing his grandfather again—alive or dead—would do nothing to help him forget them.

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Gavroche was creeping through every crevice he could squeeze into, humming as he went along. As he rounded on a dark, seemingly hidden corridor, he heard voices; rough, deep voices that were talking in low tones, seasoned with a quick chuckle every now and then. He inched closer, and accidentally knocked over a plaster statue, which caused their heads to shoot up, eyeing the area warily and raising their wands. Gavroche could see them clearly now. It was Darwin Crabbe, Nicholas Goyle, and Ingrid Nott.

Darwin Crabbe and Nicholas Goyle looked very much like their fathers; brawny and muscled with dark hair and dark eyes, although they seemed to have been better blessed than their fathers in the brains department. Ingrid Nott, Theodore Nott's daughter, was rather beautiful; with brown hair and rather prominent cheekbones. She was also quite intelligent, and could come up with a well-organized plan if needed.

As the little boy started inching backward, the three older Slytherins spotted him.

"Who are you, boy?" Crabbe demanded, his voice harsh and threatening as it echoed on the stone walls. A wave of fear washed over Gavroche. He was definitely in trouble. He gulped. Goyle grabbed him and took him to a dark corner, where the three Slytherins surrounded him.

"Answer the bloody question," Ingrid snapped, trailing her wand dangerously on Gavroche's dirt-stained cheek.

"Name's Thénardier," he answered defiantly, trying as hard as he could to convince them that he was not afraid. "Gavroche Thénardier."

"Thénardier, eh?" Gavroche felt a sigh of relief as Ingrid Nott's wand lost contact with his face. "Do we know any Thénardiers, Crabbe?" Crabbe shook his head. "Goyle?" Goyle did the same.

"Well, well, well," Ingrid said with a smirk. "We must have a Mudblood on our hands." The two boys started chuckling snidely, looking at him. Ingrid stooped down to make her face level with his. "Do you know what we do to Mudbloods around here?" she asked him sweetly, her wand tracing an invisible line on his cheek once more. Crabbe and Goyle's eyes started gleaming excitedly.

Ingrid waved her wand and started firing hex after hex on Gavroche—the jelly-legs jinx, stinging hexes, every jinx and hex that she knew, she used on him. Gavroche tried standing up and giving them a few kicks, but as soon as he had a moment to breathe, another spell would hit him, and he would back up against the wall once more.

"Try an Unforgivable, Ingrid!" Goyle said, grinning excitedly. Ingrid gave him a look and smirked.

"_Cruci—"_

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Another student has entered the scene. Gavroche merely got a chance to catch a glimpse

of his Gryffindor tie before his vision went blurry and finally blacked out.

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Enjolras had been taking one of his regular walks around the castle when he heard a child's shouts and the sounds of laughter nearby. Sensing that something bad was happening, he followed the source of the sound and saw three older students with their backs turned hexing a younger one; a first year, by the looks of it.

"Try an Unforgivable, Ingrid!"

That was when his protective instincts kicked in. He grabbed his wand and pointed it at the girl just as she was about to utter the Cruciatus Curse.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

The girl's wand flew out of her hand and Enjolras expertly caught it. All three were looking at him now, and he recognized them. They and their parents used to come over to their house when they were kids. And they recognized him too.

"Well if it isn't old Apollo," Ingrid smirked. "How has it been, _Enjy_?"

"Hexing innocent students in broad daylight," Enjolras said. "Haven't you got anything better to do, Ingrid?"

"My business is none of your concern," she shot back. "Besides, that little boy was a Mudblood. No real loss there, am I right, boys?" Crabbe and Goyle nodded.

"And you wonder why I despise every single one of you."

"Oh, the feeling is definitely mutual, Enjy. I despise every single Muggle, Mudblood, and _blood traitor _to ever set foot on this planet," she walked closer to him, sighing. "Tut, tut. Such a waste…We could have been together, you know…" She traced a finger along his jawline. "I never thought you could be such a blood traitor, Apollo. Standing up for Mudbloods and getting yourself beat up for them, you make me _sick._"

"Oh, the feeling is definitely mutual, Ingrid," he muttered through clenched teeth. Ingrid rolled her eyes.

"Where was I? Oh, right. Goyle, get me my wand, would you? I'll borrow yours," Goyle gave her his wand and started reaching for Enjolras, who was backing away.

"_Crucio!_" Ingrid pointed her wand at Gavroche, who, although unconscious, slowly came to and started writhing against the wall in pain, his tortured screams reverberating through the walls. Ingrid had a smirk plastered to her face, clearly enjoying Gavroche's suffering.

Goyle started advancing towards Enjolras, who shot a stunning spell towards Goyle, which the latter dodged. He was smirking and cracking his knuckles, finally cornering Enjolras. Before Enjolras could utter another spell, he received a punch on the side of his head. Making use of his temporary disorientation, Goyle managed to grab Ingrid's wand from Enjolras's grasp and kicked him to the ground, making him double up in pain.

It was then when Marius passed through that same hallway, flabbergasted at the scene before him. His blonde classmate spotted him standing, and called out.

"Marius! Get the boy and leave! Now!"

Marius hesitated for a moment, and then hastily shoved the letter he was reading to his robe pocket, and raised his wand, sending a stunning spell towards Ingrid, who fell five feet to the floor behind her, and dodging a Petrificus Totalus from Crabbe, who, in frustration, started to lunge at him. Using his lanky body as an advantage, he carefully sidestepped Crabbe's advances and picked up the unconscious boy in his arms and started bolting for the hospital wing, leaving Enjolras behind him.

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**A/N: I give my thanks and bear hugs to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and followed this story! Keep 'em coming, guys! Reading your feedback makes me want to write more.**

**All my love,**

**Rev**


	4. first impressions

**chapter four: first impressions**

Marius ran as fast as he could to the hospital wing, carrying the unconscious child in his arms. He recognized the kid; he often saw him running around various parts of the castle, although he never paid much attention to him until now.

Finally seeing the familiar wooden doors of the hospital wing, Marius gave a sigh of relief as he pushed them open with his shoulder and promptly set him on one of the beds near the entrance. Miss Granger then rushed to his aid, a look of concern on her face as she saw Gavroche's pale face.

"What happened to him?" she asked Marius, who was standing beside her.

"I-I'm not really sure," Marius replied, still catching his breath. "I saw Enjolras with some Slytherins and they were—it can't be good." He was worried; his friend was outnumbered, and those Slytherins were not afraid to use the Unforgivables.

"He's running a fever," Miss Granger said, running a hand over the boy's forehead. She stood up to get a clean washcloth and placed it on his forehead. "I know this kid. He's a good boy; just not with a good family. Would you mind looking after him for a few minutes? I'll just go get his sister."

"Not at all, Miss Granger," Marius smiled softly. "I'll look after him."

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Éponine gave a soft sigh as she stretched her arms and put on her coat. Her fist day on the job wasn't so bad. Cosette and her father were absolutely lovely to the point of making her feel uncomfortable; but she'd take it rather than enduring hostile remarks she received on her previous jobs.

Cosette never brought up their past, which she was thankful for. Oftentimes, she felt guilty just looking at Cosette, but she seemed genuinely nice to her and it was unnerving. Cosette made her tea during breaks, and Mr. Fauchelevent would make her lunch. She wasn't used to such treatment. But it was nice.

She waved goodbye to Cosette and her father, who smiled at her. Sticking her hands inside her coat pockets to keep them warm, she trudged the winding footpath towards the castle. As soon as she reached the entrance hall, she was greeted by Miss Granger, her face grave.

"Miss Granger? Is there something wrong?"

"Your brother is in the hospital wing, Miss Thénardier," Miss Granger replied. "I suppose he ran into bad company."

"Is he—Is he hurt?" she asked, her face worried and anxious. Gavroche was all she had, and if something happened to him… "Please, Miss Granger, I need to see him. I need to see my brother."

Miss Granger nodded and started walking towards the hospital wing, Éponine trailing worriedly behind her. Éponine quickly ran to her brother's bedside upon arriving, her hand cupping his face.

"He's got a fever and he's unconscious right now, but he'll be alright," Miss Granger said, opening the windows to let the light in. Éponine nodded.

"Miss Granger, may I go?" Marius said, standing awkwardly between the two women. He caught Éponine's eye and gave a timid smile.

"Why yes, of course," the mediwitch smiled. "Don't let me keep you. Marius, this is Éponine, she's Gavroche's sister. Éponine, this is Marius; he brought your brother here."

"Lovely to meet you, Éponine," Marius held out his hand in good courtesy.

"Good to meet you, too, Marius," Éponine smiled and shook his hand. "Thanks for looking after my brother."

"Don't mention it," he smiled at her again and waved at Miss Granger. "I'll be off, then!"

Miss Granger smiled as he left and remarked, "He is such a nice boy. Lovely to have around every now and then."

Éponine watched as he walked away and smiled to herself, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He really was a very nice boy.

Not long after Marius had left, another boy entered the hospital wing. Éponine knew him. He was one of the boys who had stopped the Carrows from cursing her on their last Dark Arts lesson. She hated feeling vulnerable and being rescued, but a small part of herself that she did not dare acknowledge was grateful for what they had done.

Enjolras—that was his last name—was limping. And is that blood on his face? Every attempt at motion made him flinch. He was bloodied up pretty bad. An expression of curiosity mingled with shock was on her face. _What the hell happened? _Éponine caught his eye but immediately looked away; it was none of her business. _But those wounds…_It can't be anything good.

Miss Granger started tending to his wounds without question, as if this were some daily occurrence, and Éponine kept her mouth shut in an unspoken agreement. Planting a kiss on her brother's forehead, she stood up and cleared her throat.

"Er, Miss Granger? I'm just going to pop in my dormitory for a bit. I'll be back later."

"Sure thing, Éponine," Miss Granger smiled kindly at her. "Take care."

She nodded curtly at Enjolras, who nodded back, and walked back to her room. On the way, she met Marius.

"Hi, Éponine," he greeted, and Éponine nodded in reply. "Where are you off to?"

"Just the common room," she said. "I've got a few things to take care of, but I'll go back to the hospital wing. Someone's got to look after my brother."

"I'll go with you."

"Er, sure, alright. I'll just be a minute." She nodded and ran to her room, changing into a loose, more comfortable shirt and gathered her hair into a messy ponytail. She grabbed a box of chocolate frogs and ran downstairs and outside the portrait hole to meet Marius.

"What's that?" Marius asked, pointing at the box she carried with her.

"Chocolate frogs," she replied. "They're for Gavroche. Chocolate always makes him feel better."

Marius smiled. "That's good."

"Hey, um, you're friends with Enjolras, right?" Marius nodded. "He's in the hospital wing right now. He doesn't look too good."

"Is he?" Marius's relaxed expression turned into that of worry and shock. "I-I'm sorry, Éponine, I'm going to have to leave you. I need to tell the others. I'll be there later, okay?" Éponine nodded. He put his hand on her shoulder and gave a comforting smile before he turned and left.

Éponine could not help tracing small circles on the spot on her shoulder that he had touched, a subtle smile playing on her lips.


	5. look what's become of me

**chapter five: look what's become of me**

Éponine fell asleep in the hospital wing, her head buried at the foot of Gavroche's bed, whose occupant was also fast asleep. It was still six o'clock at a Sunday morning, and the castle was still quiet and calm. However, the girl was not used to sleeping in, and a few minutes later, she woke up and began groping blindly for her cap, knocking a metal pan into the floor and waking up the occupant on the bed opposite Gavroche's.

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Enjolras bolted up as the sound of a deafening clang jolted him awake. He then buried his head in his hands and leaned back towards the headboard. _Damn, this headache is murderous. _The boys had come over the previous night, bringing him various drinks and foodstuff, including some firewhiskey that Grantaire had managed to obtain. Miss Granger told him off, but not before he had forced a glass down Enjolras's throat, insisting that it would 'make him feel better'. Joly was outraged; smacking him at the back of his head even until after Miss Granger had shushed them out.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," a distinctly female voice apologized timidly. Enjolras looked up and saw a familiar face looking at him, holding a metal pan that clearly caused the clang he had heard earlier.

"It's alright, Éponine," he smiled, although it may have come out as a grimace, considering that he was wounded pretty badly. "And yes, I do know who you are," he added, detecting the confused expression on her face. "We may have met a few days before."

"Oh—er, right," she said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Thanks, I guess."

"Don't mention it."

An awkward silence followed, broken a few minutes later by Éponine clearing her throat.

"I'd better get going, Enjolras. I've got a jo—erm, responsibilities to attend to," she nodded curtly. "Good day."

Éponine turned and left, planting a kiss on the sleeping Gavroche's forehead before she did so. Enjolras watched her leave, her gray coat swishing behind her as she went.

"Good morning, Enjolras, I see you've wakened."

Miss Granger approached his bed, pushing a cart carrying two trays of breakfast; one for him and one for Gavroche (they were the only occupants of the wing as of the moment).

"Here you go, dear," she took one tray of eggs and toast with ice-cold pumpkin juice and set it on his lap. "You feeling alright?"

Enjolras immediately shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Yeah, I am."

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.

Éponine made her way back to Gryffindor tower, raising an eyebrow at what looked like her roommate Melody Williams snogging one of Enjolras's friends—the drunk one—Gerald, was it?—or Grantaire—near the dormitory staircase. She muttered a quick "excuse me" and squeezed herself past them, although they didn't seem to notice.

After taking care of some personal necessities, Éponine immediately proceeded to her job at Hogsmeade. She was warmly welcomed by Cosette, who at that moment was opening up the shop. She looked beautiful and kempt; even in her plain white dress, her blond hair shining in the morning sun. Éponine consciously tried to smooth down her brown hair, which resembled a bird's nest.

The flower shop did not have many customers; it was still mid-September and no one really cared to buy flowers at that time, but they still earned a decent amount every day from the shop's patrons and regular customers.

Soon after, lunch break arrived and Cosette and Éponine were doing the dishes after they had eaten. Cosette had insisted that she should do them alone, but Éponine would not let her. She was too kind. She could not stand it any longer.

"Cosette?"

"Hm?"

"I—I just—you see—" Damn. Why was this so hard? "I'm sorry. For everything." The blonde gave her a funny look.

"What are you talking about?" she smiled, rinsing a glass under the running water.

"You see, when we were children—" she began, but Cosette interrupted her.

"What's past is past, Éponine."

"_No,_" she insisted. "I apologize for everything. My sister and I—we were brats. Me more so than her. We were cruel to you, I was cruel to you…and I just don't deserve the kindness you have been giving me. I'm sorry." Éponine was looking down, her hands trembling. Cosette put down the glass and took Éponine's hands in hers.

"Éponine," she began, giving the brunette a reassuring smile. "I forgive you. We were children, and we were foolish. I do not blame you and I assure you that I hold no grudge against you. Your parents' mistakes are not yours. Of course, I had wished for a better life back then, but the time came that I got one, and I do not regret anything. Everything happens for a reason, 'Ponine, and I would be delighted if we put this behind us, and go through life as friends. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," Éponine muttered, nodding. She was deeply touched by what Cosette had said, and she gave her a grateful smile. She wasn't one to turn on the waterworks very easily. "Thank you, Cosette, for giving me another chance. I would _love _to be friends."

"It's a good thing that's settled, then," the other girl smiled brightly. "Now, let's finish this up or no one's going to watch the shop."

.

.

Gavroche made a face as he gulped down the potion that Miss Granger had given him for his fever. He was feeling absolutely fine since he woke up, but Miss Granger had kept him in for another four hours just to 'make sure he was alright'. Of course he was alright! Gavroche Thénardier was always alright! He's not going to let a measly fever stop him, no sir!

"Miss Granger, can I _go _now?" he whined.

"Not until you finish your potion, young man," Miss Granger replied sternly, her back turned to him as she sorted through some supplies. Enjolras smirked.

"I already did!" the boy protested. "I'm _fine, _Miss Granger. Really, I am."

"Well, if you say so," the mediwitch sighed and walked towards him to give him a once-over before letting him go out. "You seem to be fine. Off you go, now."

"Finally," he said. "Bye, Enjolras."

"'Bye, Gavroche," Enjolras waved. "You take care, alright?"

"I will," he said, turning to go. "Thanks a lot. You get better too, alright? Without you, I'd have bitten the dust. Bye, Miss Granger."

Miss Granger waved and smiled at him fondly. Gavroche was the son she had always wanted but never had.


	6. the spark

**chapter 6: the spark**

Breakfast the next day wasn't exactly pleasant for Enjolras, for that matter. The bruises on his face were very clear to everyone that looked at him, and everyone was whispering—_the damn whispering!—_as if he couldn't hear them. Ingrid Nott and her little band of baboons (as Courfeyrac so kindly named them) were looking at him, sniggering. However, Enjolras was not easily affected by mindless gossip and snide looks from the people he hated. As if he even cared.

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Tuesday. Mr. Gillenormand's funeral was to be held the next day. Marius had been losing sleep over the matter. Yes, he was his grandfather; he took him in when his parents had died, but even after five years, Mr. Gillenormand's last words to the young man still stung like fresh wounds. He had been called evil, a freak, by his own grandfather, who then proceeded to drive him out of his house. This is one of the things a person could never forget even after many years of ignoring.

But he was still his grandfather, his own flesh and blood; and although the man had been stern, Marius could also remember moments when his grandfather didn't seem to have a heart of stone. He could remember his grandfather taking him to the park every weekend when he was young, and he would buy him ice cream and watch him run around and play as he sat on one of the benches, smiling fondly at his only grandson. He remembered how his grandfather would always tuck him in every night, and tell him that angels were watching over him. That God was watching over him.

The clock struck midnight. Marius knew what he had to do.

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Minerva McGonagall was still up at midnight, busy grading papers in her office. Despite the crackling fire in the fireplace, and the tartan bathrobe she wore over her nightgown, the room still felt rather nippy; which was a perfectly normal effect, what with Dementors floating all around the castle grounds.

The old professor rubbed her forehead tiredly as she kept on reading the essays submitted by her third year students. She heard a knock on the door. Professor McGonagall's head bolted up. _Who in Merlin's name would knock on her door at this hour? _Prepared for the worst, the woman warily raised her wand, ready to aim a Stunning Spell at whoever was on the other side of the door.

The knocking continued. Professor McGonagall slowly turned the doorknob.

"_Minerva…_"

It was Amycus Carrow.

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Grantaire was drunkenly wandering the corridors at midnight, after a midnight rendezvous with Mary Grace Cattermole, a fifth year Hufflepuff. He was used to these nighttime wanderings and only rarely got caught.

Pouring more firewhiskey (which he nicked from the kitchens) in his mouth, he walked surprisingly quietly through the hallways, passing empty classrooms and corridors, teachers' offices—Grantaire stopped. He heard voices.

Stepping closer towards the door, which was probably closed in a hurry and had been left open, he tried to make out what they were talking about. This must have been important—why else would people talk in tense voices past midnight?

"—have no right to do that to my students, Minerva."

It was Amycus Carrow, and his voice was seething.

"Oh, I have every right to do that, Mr. Carrow," the witch retorted. "It may have escaped your notice, Amycus, but they are also _my _students, and it has been clear they have broken school rules and therefore must be punished accordingly."

"But they are under _my _house. _I _am the one who should decide what punishment to give them."

"I had come looking for you the moment I heard about the incident, but your sister regrettably informed me that you were not in the castle," she replied, unblinking. "Besides, I think you and I both know that what you will do with those children cannot even be called punishment. You would probably praise them, in fact."

Grantaire heard a loud smack followed by a short whimper from Professor McGonagall. She had been slapped. The teenager outside their door was livid with anger. _How dare he! _Sure, Grantaire was indifferent about a lot of things, but not with Professor McGonagall. She was the closest thing to a mother that he had since his had died, and he was not going to let a slimy bastard like Amycus Carrow get away with slapping her.

"Is that all that you came here for?" the woman asked Amycus Carrow not long afterward. Her expression and her voice were so surprisingly stoic; it was as if she had never been slapped at all. Amycus roared in frustration and pointed his wand at the elderly witch's throat. McGonagall momentarily flinched, but showed no other sign of fear.

"I suggest you put your wand down, Amycus—"

"Or what?"

"Or else I will have to be forced to fight back, and when I do," she threatened. "You will not be happy."

Amycus Carrow scoffed. "Too many words," he said. "_Stupefy!_"

Professor McGonagall's eyes grew wide before the force of the spell threw her into the wall behind her. With a loud thud, she fell to the floor, unconscious.

"NO!" Grantaire ran inside the room, pushing Amycus Carrow aside. He heard snide laughter erupting behind him.

"And who is _this_?"

"You!" Grantaire faced the older wizard, whose taunting smirk did nothing to ease his fury.

"You're Leopold Grantaire's son, aren't you?" Grantaire didn't answer. He was furious; his shoulders were heaving with every breath. "Ah, I thought so. Pity. He had so much potential…But then he got himself married to a Mudblood _whore_, and then you." Amycus sneered. "A sorry excuse for a wizard."

"Don't you _dare _talk about my mother like that," he slowly raised his wand.

"Oh, you're going to hex me?" Amycus asked, almost amused. "I'm not so sure that's wise, boy."

Grantaire looked at him. He picked up his unconscious Professor and put her over his shoulder. He looked at the door. Then back at Amycus Carrow. Then at the door. Then to Amycus. And he ran.

To be honest, he didn't go too far. McGonagall was _heavy, _and Grantaire's drunkenness didn't do much to ease the load. Amycus was bolting after him, what was he—

"Densaugeo!" he yelled. He was desperate, and that was the first spell that came into his head. However, the spell had taken effect, and from his lips escaped a chuckle as he saw the older wizard's teeth grow at an alarming rate. He then bolted as fast as his drunken stupor could allow him into the hospital wing—where at least he knew they would be safe.

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.

Upon reaching Professor McGonagall's office, Marius could sense that something was amiss. The door was left ajar, but there was no one in the room or even in the corridor, for that matter. He walked in and saw the scattered shards of a broken mug of coffee and a fallen portrait. Something had gone terribly wrong. And when something was wrong, they knew who to find.

.

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**A/N: Sorry it took so long! I was feeling a bit lazy, and I was struggling for days on what to write. To everyone that read and liked this fic, thank you so much! I wish I could hug every single one of you. :)**

**Also, to StarCatcher1858, Ted and Victoire won't be appearing in this story, I'm sorry. My headcanon is that after the war, the Death Eaters tracked down the members of the Order and killed most of them with their families. Sorry. :c**

**x Rev**


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